


Spy Games

by LethalLittleSpiderX



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:38:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LethalLittleSpiderX/pseuds/LethalLittleSpiderX
Summary: The first night at the resort and the seduction starts.





	Spy Games

As much as it irked her to have to share a bed, that’s exactly what was going to happen. And, truth be told, it was the only way to pass this whole thing off as legit. No doubt if one of them slept elsewhere word would be around the resort right after maid service had cleaned their room. That would not help keep their cover intact in the least. They were sent here together because this was a couples retreat. For all appearances they had to be a couple. At first it had seemed amusing, but now… well it was only the first night in and she was already regretting this favor granted to her friend. They had been at each other’s throats for the last few hours with him finally leaving for a shower and her doing her best to calm her temper with a book.

Their disagreement on sleeping arrangements had been the last round of bickering over the entire matter with neither willing to bend, as usual. She had conceded, however, to not sleeping as she usually did. Nude. Natasha wasn’t so sure what his plans were but she suspected he would do whatever he could to make her uncomfortable. The thought made her smile, just a little. They’d been waging a silent battle of wills since this game had started. Something to be expected from the two of them. Neither one was used to following orders or allowing someone else control. Too much alike for their own good.

Her compromise to the sleeping situation was the mid thigh length silk gown she wore. It covered everything just fine as far as she was concerned and when the cleaning crew came in, they would appreciate it. Appropriate for her false station. Something her husband could easily have given her. After all, who would come to a place like this with their husband and wear an old T shirt stolen from another man? They might not know it was one of Clint’s shirts, but it certainly wouldn’t help keep up appearances.

Besides, the deep blue color complimented her skin and eyes nicely. Yes, it was one more tiny dig in their battle of wills. Also, if something should happen and she needed to move, it gave her enough range of motion to do so. The thin spaghetti criss-crossed straps weren’t terribly sturdy, but it would have to do until she could put something else on if needed. No one enjoyed fighting naked. What could she say? She’d packed in a hurry.

The clinking of delicate glass brought her head up from the book she held, frown on her face, but the sound of the door closing had one hand sliding under the covers for the loaded Glock hidden there. He cleared the door to the bedroom portion of their suite with a sly smirk and two wine glasses in one hand, the other behind his back. The crisp white towel was slung tightly around his hips, water running down his chest from hair he had apparently not dried after his shower. 

Relaxing, she eased away from the weapon, leaning back against the pillows she had propped herself up with, gave a small hum of appreciation, then raised a brow at him. The bottle of wine appeared from behind his back and he set them on top of the chest just inside the door.

“Seems they want to provide everything they can to make sure their couples enjoy themselves,” he answered the unspoken question. “I chose the red.”

“I see.” Head went back to the book her her hand and she heard him pour. “I’m good.” It was a dismissal of the drink. She never drank on missions. Faked it more than once, but never drank. Eyes flicked up to him. “You really think you should be getting drunk at this point? We do have a mission here.”

As if suddenly deaf he carried both half filled wine glasses to her and pressed one into her hand. She took it with a mouth full of questions, holding onto it gently as she looked up at him askance, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Now he was up to something. 

“You do realize I can’t get drunk, yes?” she asked skeptically. Somehow she doubted he knew all the ins and outs of dealing with the Black Widow.

“Perish the thought,” came his flip reply. The accent made it roll nicely off his tongue.

Now she was more than suspicious. Now she was wary of his motives. “I see. Then why the wine?” Sometimes she wondered if anyone other than M questioned him. If that was the reason she always seemed to bring such a sour look to his face. That and the fact everything she did annoyed him. This mission didn’t change that either, as he was reluctant to do it to begin with, especially with her.

Fingers toyed with the double strap of the gown before trailing down her arm, following the scar she couldn’t remember the origin of. But the incident had been significant enough to leave her with a visible scar after all these years, even with her healing factors. There was something about that particular pale line that always tugged her memories, pushed at the black hole in her brain.

“Are you always so tense?” Bond teased while fingers trailed back up and he took a drink from his glass. Eyes moved up to hers with a knowing smile.

Impassively she watched his hand slide down her arm and back up again, her mind not on him in the least. When he spoke, her head jerked up to look at him. His voice had pulled her from her thoughts, from the sheer frustration of not being able to remember something she knew was important. What exactly was he up to? Eyes caught sight of yet another bead of water rolling down his chest. Eyes followed it down to the towel and it clicked. Towel. Shower. Wine. Now she understood.

With a soft laugh she asked, “Bond, are you trying to seduce me?”

Something flared to life behind his eyes and he took the ignored wine glass from her hand, taking a bold swallow from it before setting them both down on the night stand next to the bed. His eyes never left hers and she watched some kind of emotion flicker across his face, too fast for her to put a name to it.

“I’m not trying anything,” came his answer finally, “I fully intend to make love to my wife.”

The last word was said with a hint of sarcasm, a mockery of the mission, but it certainly didn’t seem to slow him down any. If asked, she would gladly confess to her confusion at the situation. No one else seemed to annoy him as much as she did, and his level of disapproval for everything she did was rivaled only by Matt Murdock. So this? This was more than unexpected and hard to navigate. It hadn’t even been on the map.

It took a moment for her brain to scramble some kind of response and by then he was already leaning down to her. His arms on either side of her body, his own close enough she could feel the heat rolling off of him. Heat that had nothing to do with the shower. The smell of shampoo, soap and his underlying aroma greeted her in a much too pleasant cloud.

“You know I’m armed, right?” she managed as his lips brushed against hers gently.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” It was said against her mouth before he sealed them together. He pressed against her, using his body as leverage. One hand moved from the mattress to her neck, fingers curling around it to pull her closer.

A sound of surprise escaped her. What the hell was he doing? Honestly, he was giving her whiplash with his mixed signals and – but the train of thought was completely derailed when his tongue slipped past her lips to dive into her mouth.

Exactly when her hands moved to touch him, she wasn’t sure. First they were in her lap holding her book, then they were against his chest appreciating the lines of muscle, moving to his shoulders then onto his back. Where did her book go? Nails dug in, urging him closer. What the hell was she doing?

With a gasp she pulled free, a sound catching in her throat when his teeth caught her lower lip. Fingers spasmed, leaving marks on his skin. Gathering her wits once again she shifted until she could push against his chest, giving herself room to breathe.

“I have no interest in being a Bond girl. Maybe some of the women you’ve slept with feel it’s some kind of badge of honor, but I’m not one of them.”

Fire flared to life in her eyes at the statement, the words coming out tartly. The response his body gave made it obvious he had seen it and approved. Rising, he stood next to the bed a beat before his hand snaked out to grab her ankle, jerking her flat. Head dropped to the pillows now resting behind it, hair fanning out across them and she let out a Russian curse that would make most men blush. Lightning fast, her hand was under the sheets, reaching for the weapon. He wasn’t exactly faster but managed to trap the loaded hand by dropping himself astride her. A knee trapping the sheets one one side and his hand trapping it on the other, his weight mostly shifted towards the dangerous side, balanced by his other knee on her other side. Another inch and she’d clear the hiding place. If she let go of the weapon entirely she could get her hand free. Not that she wasn’t enough of a weapon on her own. Natasha wasn’t a soft body with lush curves. No, she was solid muscle stretched over deadly intent and powerful will.

Leaning in he nuzzled against her neck. Ever present stubble scrubbed against her much softer skin and a tremor shot out from the contact and downward. “None of that now,” admonished Bond with a grin she couldn’t see. His mouth was now moving along the column of her neck, words vibrating against her sensitive flesh.

Tasha was extremely aware of the now missing towel as well as the fact her gown had slid up to her hips when he pulled her.

“I am not another conquest,” she ground out between clenched teeth. It had been ages since anyone had gotten close enough for any kind of intimacy and her body was turning traitor at his caress. No, she hadn’t allowed anyone to touch her since she realized she was missing memories. But sex was just sex, right? It didn’t have to be anything more than that. Still…. Romanoff bucked under him in an effort to shift his weight but all she managed was an even bigger reaction from him.

“Oh far from it,” he answered, lips still trailing across skin, now at the pulse in her throat. Her gown had ridden up to her waist and it most certainly wasn’t going unnoticed by either of them. Dammit all to hell, she could feel it all the way to her toes with every brush of his mouth and it pissed her off even more. The spy didn’t need to be touched. She did just fine without it thank you very much. And it didn’t matter how attractive he was, or that he wouldn’t expect much from her when it was all said and done. This was just a quick toss in the sheets for someone like him. Something she used to not think twice about.

“Move Bond,” she growled, free hand shoving ineffectively at him. Could she move him? Yes. But it would be likely she’d injure him. The angle and the leverage were awkward and it wouldn’t be graceful or as controlled as she would like, but it could be done. And right now she was close to doing it, cover be damned. They could come up with a lie on how he got hurt later. Bedroom games gone wrong or something. Reining her temper in she lashed out another way. “Any port in a storm, is that it? Been a while has it?” The words were harsh, her breathing ragged and her hand continued to push at him. Would he force her? No, it wasn’t his style at all. But he was stubborn as hell and had no qualms about attempting to seduce her. And now her body was begging to be seduced.

Free hand reached up to snag her pushing hand with his own, guiding it down his body until he curled her fingers around his length.

“Does this feel like any port in a storm to you, wife?” His cheek rubbed against hers, rough from the few days growth of beard. A stark contrast to the way his mouth had felt against her.

No, it certainly didn’t feel like any port in the storm. Not even with his mocking tone. It felt like white hot passion. She felt him swell even more in her hand and stroked him lightly. 

“It feels like you want some place to put this,” she replied tightly, “but you aren’t known for being terribly picky about where. Or who.” Her tongue was as sharp as a blade, honed to do maximum damage. Teeth raked against her throat and she swallowed hard. He wasn’t making this easy. But this was the kind of thing both of them would regret later. Bond’s hand had left hers and now it was tracing patterns along the ridge of her hip. Patterns of fire and ice. When he finally reached between them to tease her, breath caught in her throat and she tensed. He skimmed her mound, learning the contours, feeling the short, soft, red curls there and the smoothness when he followed the natural path down. A finger pressed, barely parting her and the breath she was holding came out in a wordless groan.

As he spoke he pushed a digit inside of her. “There’s only one place I want to go right this moment. And only one person I’d like to bury myself in.” Oh he was good at this. The movement brought her hips up and threw her head back in an open invitation. One he took without hesitation. A bite where her neck met shoulder and another finger added to her heat.

There was no way to deny her body’s reaction to him. It was there for the blonde to feel, see and smell. Hell the scent of her arousal was obvious even to her now. In response she stroked him, thumb running over the end of his dick and back down, a fingernail pausing to ride the edge of the head. A sound in the back of his throat was all the answer he gave.

Maybe she should have drank the wine. Blamed all of this on too much alcohol. It was plausible deniability and something she would gladly accept right now. When his lips met hers again he didn’t waste any time with niceties, plunging his tongue into her mouth immediately. A low growl and she didn’t know which one of them it was.

Ah, dammit. This was going to come back to bite her in the ass later, she knew it.

“You mean here?” she asked coyly when they broke apart, rubbing him against her. It had been far too long since she indulged in such a thing. Her body didn’t want to say no and her brain was forgetting why it should.

The blonde moved until he was directly over her. The hard length of his body giving even more fuel to the fire raging in her body. The weapon under the sheets long forgotten now. Fingers slick with evidence of her reaction to him eased from her and she ground her teeth against the protest. Lighter blue met darker blue and he brazenly sucked the two fingers into his mouth to clean them off before bracing himself above her on his elbows.

“Any time now love,” he growled in her ear.

Slowly she guided him lower until he could press into her. Hand stayed, touching both their bodies as he filled her a little at a time. It wasn’t until he was fully seated inside of her she let go, both hands going to his shoulders. A few slow strokes, their bodies learning each other. Then he looped an arm under her leg, pulling it up, opening her further. Her other knee rose, bending to plant a foot in the sheets. Holding himself over her, he withdrew nearly completely before slamming home. The motion drove him as far as he could go and made her moan. There was no extra room, nothing she hadn’t taken…. a perfect fit between their bodies.

“Again,” Romanoff demanded and he obliged without a word. In for a penny, in for a pound as they said. The phrase rang in her head and she almost laughed.

It wasn’t long before they were both panting. His body began to tighten over her and she expected him to finish. Instead he surprised her, rolling them over until she could straddle him. With an easy tug he pulled the blue silk from her body in a whisper of sensation and sound, up and over her head, trapping her arms for just a moment before he tossed it aside to the floor. Her hands went to his back, nails dragging down to leave trails in their wake. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples catching against the spray of hair there. They tightened even further, hard peaks rubbing against him. Lower lip caught between her teeth, her body taking in the sensations he was creating in her, eyes dropping closed. Blonde head dipped down, sucking one of those peaks into his mouth and she let out a broken sound of pleasure. A hand moved to his still wet hair, a handful to hold on to. Calloused hands moved slowly down her back, a finger sliding into the cleft of her ass before blazing a slow trail back up.

Bond’s mouth was now on her other breast, a hand moving into her hair while the other continued following the lines of her back. Natasha felt him tighten his hold in her hair, pulling enough for her to understand and she dropped her head back. It forced her back to arch, full breasts thrust forward, throat bared.

He let go of her nipple with a soft pop and a scrape of teeth that sent a shiver tripping down her spine with a small gasp. Those same teeth were now at her neck, grazing skin before catching a small piece, biting gently. Her hand pulled in his hair, not to stop him, but to encourage instead. Rocking her hips against him, she had barely room to make small movements but it was enough to rub against that sensitive spot.

A whimper that was swallowed by his mouth on hers, rougher than before. This time it was her tongue darting into his mouth. She touched and teased, exploring the depths of his mouth without shame. Hands cupped her face, tongue traced her bottom lip and he broke away. A moment that he studied her face, reading something in it. Whatever it was seemed to satisfy him and he laid back, hands going to her hips.

Thumbs brushed skin while he rocked her body against his. He met her gaze again and this time he gave her a grin. “Ride me Natasha.” Widow was far past needing any kind of encouragement for such a thing and with his hands firmly holding her hips, she rose until he was nearly completely out before dropping down to take all of him quickly.

Leaning forward, she planted her hands on either side of his head, changing the angle. Sweat was starting to rise on her skin, breath coming in short gasps. His hands never forced or controlled, merely held on as she chose the pace. His head lifted off the bed to take one of the pink peaks in his mouth again and she felt the contact shoot electricity to her center.

He must have felt some of it himself because he let go, muttering under his breath. “Shit. Natasha. Bloody hell. I didn’t expect….” 

Words dropped off and he fell back to the bed but didn’t let go. Hips bucked under her and she felt her own climax rise. The grip he had on her hips tightened to almost painful and he pressed her against him roughly. The angle did what she needed it to do and the shudders started, her legs quivering on either side of him. She felt the spams around him start and after a few beats he let out a broken, gasping, groan loud enough to wake the dead.

Natasha shuddered, spent, and collapsed onto him. One more push of her hips and he let go, arms wrapping around her. A soft sigh against his chest but she made no move to change positions. Not now. Tomorrow they could ignore it happened. Pretend it was just part of the job. A way to get into character. A folly on both their parts. Whatever

“Bond. James…” Romanoff started with a sigh only to have a hand find her mouth. Fingers pressed against it to quiet the words.

“Do shut up.” Again with the accent. “Just… relax for once. I’m not going to eat you. Well, maybe later….” The hand moved from her mouth into her hair, cupping the back of her head gently. The other arm remained wrapped around her, holding her against him. If she was more relaxed she would cease to be a solid.

As sleep began to steal away at the edges of her vision she let her eyes drift close and chuckled. That seemed to answer the question of how both of them would be sleeping and where.


End file.
